What She Should Know
by Hermonthis
Summary: H/Hr - "Hermione," he asked her softly, "Do you ever have regrets?" Without hesitation she turned her head to look at him. "Yes, I think we all do."


June 8, 2004 (8:37 pm)

Disclaimer: All characters, places, and unusual floating objects mentioned in this fanfiction (that would seem very out of place with our own non- wizarding world) belong to Joanne K. Rowling, author of the "Harry Potter" books.  
  
Warning: The story contains major spoilers for OoTP so please be wary.

**What She Should Know**

By Dragon Faere

_It's really quite complicated. What he should feel for her.  
  
He doesn't know that it's there, unaware of those thoughts and feelings and whatever else his mind tells him to do when she's around. And between you and me, we know that she's around quite often.  
  
And still she doesn't know.  
_  
"Hermione," he said to her, "where's Ron?" Harry sat up on the bed and pulled on his left sock while its partner was left dangling from her hand, swaying to and fro and she tapped her foot out of impatience. He's always slow to get up in the mornings, especially when school is out of the picture. But then again, he's slow regarding other matters, too.  
  
She sighed.  
  
"Ron's downstairs with the rest of the family and they're all eating breakfast, like we should be doing but instead, I'm stuck here with you waiting for you to find your shoes."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Grabbing his other sock from her swinging hands Harry hopped on one foot and jumped around the room in a hurry. She folded her arms over her chest, rolled her eyes, clicked her tongue and smiled all at the same time. How typical of him.  
  
"So, what's Mrs. Weasley cooking this time?" Harry sniffed the air, trying to decipher what the mouth-watering smells are from below are but failed to do so. Finally pulling his red jumper over his arms and head, his nose pops out like a gopher and the round-rimmed glasses fall out onto the floor. "Want to tell me?"  
  
"Not particularly." Bending over to pick up the lost item and return it to him, their fingertips briefly touch in the smallest of movements. Eyes that look up to one another and for a moment, our world is perfect.  
  
But then the hold is broken when a hand runs through the jet-black hair and he yawned, stretching his arms out. In turn, Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at the bedroom. With a _swish_ and a _flick_, the sheets are made flat as the edges hang off the sides in uniform length and the pillows are all fluffed up and put straight.  
  
"Shall we join the others, then?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Harry, good morning!" Mrs. Weasley beamed at him. "I hope you had a good night's rest." Seating him next to Mr. Weasley, Hermione decided to take her place on the other side. In no time, they both tuck into Molly's wonderful breakfast, content to hear the chatter going above their heads.  
  
"Hermione's my wake up call." He managed to say between bites of toast and a glass of orange juice. Gulping, he turned to his left and watched her cut the food with a knife and fork, his reliable Hermione.  
  
_His darling Hermione._  
  
And he chuckled to himself.  
  
"Ah yes, we didn't want to wake you up too early, with what happened last night and all." Mr. Weasley's voice broke into the conversation, his attention gone from his plate. "Make sure that you get lots of rest, Harry, you'll need your strength in the coming days." Several heads nodded, including hers.  
  
"Of course he needs his strength Arthur, the boy has a lot to think about. Besides, it's better if he stays here where Dumbledore knows that he's with us instead of –"  
  
"The Dursley's?" Molly flushed pink for a little bit, not wanting to say out loud how much she disliked Harry's aunt and uncle.  
  
"It's okay, as long as I'm away for the good part of the year, they'll feed me alright." He neglected to mention that as safe as he felt in The Burrow, the house back in Pivet Drive was where he should actually be. That was where the last of the blood ran and protected him, and as much as he would like to be with those who cared for him, the unusual fortification around the muggle house kept him secure from Voldemort's hands. Well, for now.  
  
Bill Weasley took a glance at the famed grandfather clock and announced that he had to be heading for work. Muttering a few words, his plate and cutlery magically floated off into the kitchen where it was dumped into the sink. Kissing his mother and waving farewell to the rest of the family, he grabbed a handful of Floo Power, thought better of it, and just Disapparated from sight. Everyone else just went back to their food.  
  
And when the rest of the morning had dwindled down to lethargy, Harry tried to occupy his time by doing useless work and picking his brain for anything that might help him. As expected, Hermione found him pacing back and forth in the bedroom and the both of them decided to go back down into the living room, anything to help relieve his anxiousness.  
  
_Every time that they sit down, they normally end up right next or across from each other._  
  
"Hermione, what do we really know about this?" Harry asked his best friend, lines of worry etched on his face as he waited for her answer. Without hesitation, she leans on the arm rest, her hair falling in front of her face and starts explaining to the boys why it's so important to –  
  
"But don't you think that Dumbledore would have it covered? Think about it, if he knows that –"  
  
"Yes, Ron, but for all we know that information could be a farce, not to mention the whole condition of their secret meetings. There's enough speculation to believe it is true, but there's also the chance that they're just leading us on..."  
  
_It's just understood... that they should talk about everything under the sun such as school, Ron, the impending battle, trolls, whether Harry will actually live through the next two months, Quidditch, Ron, their professors at Hogwarts, what their other friends are doing, if DADA should continue the following year, Trelawney's prediction, Ron, the newest spells and books that should help them in their training, Dumbledore, ways Harry could hurt Dudley and get away with it, and Ron._  
  
"Wait a sec, are you telling me you think –"  
  
"No, I'm not saying that –"  
  
"But you just did, you're thinking that if Harry –"  
  
_The redheaded boy would also sit down with them, engaged in a conversation that the three of them could conspire in or laugh about. The Great Trio, as Fred and George Weasley nicknamed them. Nothing can sever them apart.  
_  
"Ron, if you would just listen –"  
  
"Oh no, there's no chance that Dumbledore would put him –"  
  
"But that's not what I said!"  
  
The two turned to each other and started to banter back and forth, oblivious to Harry and his impending headache. Once the voices were raised, there was not much that he could do except for them to let it out. He normally didn't play the peacemaker in this one; they'd do it on their own in one way or another. Besides, his eyes were getting tired and he felt the need to get some fresh air.  
  
_The Great Trio._  
  
Hermione paced out of the living room and pushed the door to the backyard aside, not attempting to hide the force she used to shove it aside. The latest match with Ron had left her cheeks all flushed and tinged with a certain glow, but he didn't notice it all that well.  
  
"So, what happened this time?" Leaning back on the tree trunk, Harry kept his eyes open for any garden gnomes that may be around. Hermione sat down beside him but leaned back on her hands instead.  
  
"The usual, whatever I said he misinterpreted it to be the other way."  
  
"And you said."  
  
"That he wasn't listening close enough."  
  
"And he said."  
  
"That I use too many words in my conversations with him."  
  
"And you reacted by –"  
  
"Telling him that it's not my problem I use too many words –"  
  
"Because you read a lot of books." He completed the sentence for her just so she wouldn't get herself all worked up again over nothing.  
  
"That's right."  
  
_When it's just the two of them, they can talk about anything._  
  
"Hermione, you know that Ron just likes to argue with you." He yawned and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. She tutted and muttered that he liked to argue with her too much, perhaps he argued with her for the sake of arguing, maybe he just liked –  
  
"Liked what, Hermione?" he interjected, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Oh. It's nothing really." They dropped the conversation and left it behind them, back in the house where it was honour-bound to pick up again by whomever, most likely Ron, but for now they were just content sitting on the grass, watching the world revolve slowly. They thought about things. She tiled her head back and tried to count how many clouds it would take to rain on Harry before he could be happy again.  
  
"Do you miss him?"  
  
He didn't have to ask whom she was referring to.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm sorry about the whole thing."  
  
"Me too."  
  
Crouching in a bit closer, she tugged on his arm sleeve and made him look at her. Brilliant green met warm, chocolate brown. Without words, he offered his shoulder to her and she leaned on it, expelling a deep sigh in the process.  
  
"Do you ever have regrets, Hermione?"  
  
"I think we all do." Knowing full well what he must be thinking of but unsure of what he must be feeling, she puts her hand over his and squeezes it gently; a signal to know that she shall be there for him whenever he may need her. Turning his palm over, he grasps the edge of her fingertips and encloses it within his hand. An answer.  
  
"How long are you going to stay here?"  
  
"You mean with the Weasley's?" He made a small grunt instead of nodding his head, because that would require movement and that would distract her. He didn't want that. "Oh, I asked Ron whether I could borrow Pig so I could send a note to Mum and Dad. They say that they would like to see me before term starts in September again, considering that we go back to Hogwarts but I'm quite sure that school wouldn't be cancelled because of that and Mum wants to talk to me while Dad thinks that it's nice for me to stay here too..."  
  
"Hermione," he warned her jokingly. "You're using too many words." She laughed a bit and he could feel her smile against his shoulder.  
  
"I'm going home tomorrow." She added quickly, "but I'll come back, I promise, to see you and Ron over the summer holidays. It's not fair that you should be alone." That wasn't necessarily true. Harry had other members of the Order to look after him and nobody could treat him as a child anymore. He had dealt with things most adults don't dare to think of and yet here he was, fifteen years old and living a nightmare. If only he had paid more attention to those lessons with Snape, maybe it wouldn't have happened but who would have been hurt instead? If only he wasn't so.... so...  
  
"Do you have to go back to that awful place?" Her voice brought him back to the surface and Harry craned his neck to look down at her long lashes.  
  
"Are you talking about my Aunt and Uncle?" The Dursleys. Who would have thought?  
  
"And your cousin, Dudley." He let out a derisive snort and looked toward the bushes, waiting for any suspicious movement in the leaves.  
  
"Dudders."  
  
She heard Harry sigh and he leaned against the tree once more. This time around, Hermione shifted her legs and resumed her position on her head on his shoulder. Something stirred inside of her when he announced his return to Pivet Drive for what would seem more than half of the holidays. He tried to put an off-hand tone when he quoted Dumbledore that they were the safest place to be right now.  
  
"So, when are you leaving?"  
  
"In two days." She didn't ask him anymore questions.  
  
Dinner came and so did the rest of the family. As they all gathered around the kitchen table they exchanging bowls of food and chatted away with cheery nonsense. Ginny Weasley sat beside Harry with Hermione on his other. Ron was edge between one of his best friends and his father.  
  
"So, have you got everything packed yet, Harry dear?" Molly was bustling around again, making sure that everyone had got enough to eat and drink. The other house was out of bounds for the younger ones until things eased off a bit, there were just too many memories to sort out and it was all too fresh in their minds, Harry especially.  
  
"Has Dumbledore said when I can come here again?"  
  
"I'm afraid not, Harry. There is still a lot that we have to do and you know that at your Aunt and Uncle's, you'll be safe." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he knew that already but it wasn't exactly a comforting thought.  
  
"Sure, he's safe but unhappy. What a great way to spend your holidays."  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"I'm done, Mrs. Weasley. Do you want me to put this away?" But Molly shook her head no, he had done enough already. With a pained look on her face, she turned away from the table and charmed his plates away. Harry pretended not to see her eyes.  
  
"Maybe you should be getting some rest now, dear. Go on." Getting the hint, Harry said goodnight to everyone and retreated upstairs into the upper levels of The Burrow, to the room that once belonged to Percy Weasley.  
  
With the door partially shut, Harry sat on the bed and stared at his hands, unable to do anything. Bored and exhausted at the same time, he fell back onto the mattress and let his mind wander over memories, both good and bad. He shut his eyes to clock out the light and let himself yield to a grayish world. Nothing was black and white anymore and sometimes, he'd wish it were like that again.  
  
A hand rapped on the door.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Come on in," and she did.  
  
"You're not sleeping yet." She stood in front of the door, a hand on the wall where the switch was.  
  
"I'm in my clothes, Hermione, I'm not ready for bed."  
  
"When will you then? I noticed that you haven't been well rested for days on end and that you'd wake up with shadows under your eyes. You're not eating well, Harry, I know these things."  
  
"Just leave me alone," replied his monotonous voice. Instead, she walked over and stared down at his face, her hair held back by her right hand.  
  
"Will you stop with the acting and the pushing away? Everyone's worried about you and you're making no attempt to make things better for yourself." Her answer must have sparked an interest in him because he suddenly opened his eyes and sat up, almost knocking their heads together. She sat down and he moved over on the bed, giving her more room beside him.  
  
"What do you expect me to do?" It was no use arguing with her like she did with Ron, things between them didn't work that way. There was no point in telling her the past either. They had experienced it together, five years in the making and hopefully longer than that. When he found the energy to really think about it, Harry could see reasons why they didn't exchange blows with one another so much.  
  
But thinking about the past just made him hurt more.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
How many people had he lost already? As he stared at the walls, waiting for the racket that the ghoul in the attic usually performed during this time in the evening, his eyes became out of focus and his fingers twitched, as if holding a faulty wand that kept blowing sparks out of its tip. It was just a nervous reaction, nothing to worry about.  
  
But she could already guess.  
  
_Fifteen years ago, five years ago, three years ago..._  
  
Harry's mind replayed the events all too well, he was falling into a pit of solitude and it was just getting deeper. There were always new people coming into his life but the most important ones stepping out. It was all unfair in his eyes, that he couldn't have a normal existence and that he was never destined to have one. He'd always have these things hanging over his head, not until it ended one way or another.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Are you ever going to be happy again?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I just saw you now, you were gripping your hands together and your knuckles were white."  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
"It never leaves you, does it? Trelawney's prediction, his house, the uncertainty of it all?" She made sure her voice was kept low.  
  
"No, it keeps me awake."  
  
"I know, I see it when you look at me," Hermione added quietly, bowing her head so he couldn't meet her gaze. Ignoring the pitter-patter sound that was caught somewhere in her chest, she tried to keep her head blank and stay rational about it all. But somewhere inside, it hurt strangely.  
  
"Can you see it?" He whispered, "Can you see my sadness?"  
  
His voice splintered into a hundred miniscule pieces, all aimed at her for daring to speak about this subject. He grabbed her upper arm and sought out her face, slightly afraid to see her reaction. And there was one, he discovered, and it moved him in a way that he wasn't sure how.  
  
_Except this was Hermione,_ his gut told him. _She has no reason to be afraid of you even when you are._  
  
But she couldn't answer, she didn't know how to. It was all too complicated in her mind, that every time he was given a chance at contentment, something else had to be sacrificed. What else did he have or want only to learn that there was a price to be paid? Too many things had happened already, and most times, it left more hurt than good.  
  
She held his hands.  
  
With her breathe iced up at the bottom of her throat, she progressively turned her face to his, her mind racing to think up an answer that could give him some condolence, but there really was none. Her part wasn't to makes things lighter and to solve the problems. Not in this chaos that had swept them in without hesitation, her role was to stay beside him as one of his best friends...  
  
Anything less would be unacceptable.  
  
It was just like that.  
  
They sat together quietly, lost in their individual thoughts about one another. Here, in The Burrow, the home of their best friend, Ron Weasley, whose family cared for Harry and had taken him in as a surrogate son. A place where he felt that he belonged and heaven forbid things should change now.  
  
And here she was, too. Born from the non-magical world and brought into Hogwarts where they truly met. But right now her eyes drooping and her breath became shallow as she held the hand of The-Boy-Who-Lived.  
  
Who will live.  
  
Hermione smiled when a familiar head let out a yawn and leaned against her, his unmanageable mop of hair tickling her.  
  
_Do you hear that, Harold James Potter? I'm going to stay with you right to the bittersweet end...  
_  
- - -  
  
"Hermione?" a small voice called out her name although she wasn't sure whom it belonged to.  
  
"Yes, Harry?" The voice halted before calling her again.  
  
"Hermione? Are you awake?"  
  
"Yes... no?"  
  
"Hermione, you're asleep." And the brown-haired girl felt her chest hitch once as someone shook her lightly, causing her eyes to open. Her watery vision made out an image of freckles and red hair.  
  
"Where's Harry?"  
  
"Right beside you." He whispered as he helped her up to her feet. Turning around, she saw Harry dozing peacefully on his side, still wearing the clothes from last night and his glasses lying askew on his nose. She smiled at the sight of him.  
  
"When did he fall asleep?" Ron asked in hushed tones, not wanting to wake his best friend up.  
  
"I'm not sure, we were just talking last night when... I guess we both dozed off." He nodded in understanding, glad to hear that someone was getting through to Harry.  
  
"Is he always like this?" She nodded.  
  
"He thinks he can hide it, but we know better." Opening the door, he waited for Hermione to exit the room so they could both make their way downstairs.  
  
"Come on, your parents are waiting."  
  
"But Harry."  
  
"Don't worry. Nobody's going to wake him up anytime soon." With one last appeal from Ron, Hermione smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes and took a stride towards the door. She stopped.  
  
"I'll be right down, Ron. I want to –" The boy shrugged noncommittally and closed the door behind him. Hermione heard him shushing someone else on the stairs to make their footfalls a little quieter. She shook her head in amusement.  
  
"Harry?" But he was fast asleep. Not wanting to wake him up either but wanting to do something, she reached for the edge of the blanket and brought it up over him, just enough so that he wouldn't miss her presence. Kneeling on the floor, she removed his glasses and placed it on the dresser, folding them gently. He'd find it easily enough when he woke around late morning.  
  
"I'm going back home now..." she whispered. "Harry, I just want you to know that –" but the words never made it out of her mouth. Instead, she smoothed the bangs from his forehead, paying no need to the lightning scar. Sighing, she got up and walked out of the door, downstairs, and out of the house to meet her parents.  
  
But what she didn't know was when she took her first step on the stairs; two brilliant green eyes had opened and followed her as she went down.  
  
He expelled the breath he had been holding.  
  
_Everything was just too complicated, he knew that. He just didn't know how much._


End file.
